


Call Me

by Kantayra



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Coitus Interruptus, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-20
Updated: 2009-10-20
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:59:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tezuka and Atobe suffer from an extreme case of Coitus Interruptus. Tezuka is most displeased with Atobe's cell phone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call Me

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [电话](https://archiveofourown.org/works/496336) by [fiammanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiammanda/pseuds/fiammanda)



> This is a total cliché fic, but once I read in the databooks that Atobe keeps five cell phones in his bag, I couldn't stop myself. Title is yanked from the Blondie song, for absolutely no good reason whatsoever, since they have nothing in common.

“Mmm, Atobe,” Tezuka’s low voice rumbled against Atobe’s bare skin as his kissed his way up Atobe’s throat.

“ _Yes_!” Atobe hissed. “Tezuka! Just like—”

He was cut off mid-exhortation by the buzzing of his cell phone.

Tezuka froze between butterfly kisses over Atobe’s pulse point.

Atobe gave him an apologetic look. “Hold that thought. This will just take a minute.” He answered his phone. “Hello?”

Tezuka fell back onto Atobe’s spacious bed with a groan. He normally thought of himself as a patient man, but exceptions could be made to any rule, especially when he and Atobe were half naked in bed together and had nowhere else to be for the entire evening.

“Calm down, Gakuto,” Atobe was saying wearily into the phone. “No, Yushi hasn’t called me.” A pause. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it.” A longer pause in which Tezuka could just barely hear Mukahi ranting on the other end of the line. “Well, I don’t know,” Atobe finally snapped. “Buy some handcuffs and chain him to the bed if you have to.” Another pause, and Atobe quirked an eyebrow at the cell phone in response to whatever Mukahi had said. “Er… You’re welcome, I guess.” Mukahi started babbling about something again.

Tezuka coughed pointedly.

“Look, Gakuto, I was right in the middle of something important, so can this wait until tomorrow? Uh-huh. Uh-huh. You and Yushi have fun. Bye!” Atobe shut the cell phone with an authoritative flick of his wrist.

“Something important?” Tezuka murmured, crawling back over to where Atobe’s gorgeous body still lay on display.

“Very, very important,” Atobe agreed, twining his fingers into Tezuka’s hair. He pulled Tezuka’s head down, and their breaths mingled for a moment in anticipation, and then—

“Dammit!” Atobe swore when his cell phone went off again.

Tezuka glared at him.

“If it’s Gakuto again, I promise I’ll kill him,” Atobe assured him with a quick peck before answering. “Hello?”

Tezuka flopped back down onto the bed beside him to wait _this_ call out.

“What do you want?” Atobe’s voice sounded sour. Tezuka wondered who it was. “Well, I hardly see that that’s my fault,” Atobe went on in his haughtiest tone of voice. “Really, Sanada, I’m surprised you can’t handle the situation yourself. Has Rikkaidai gotten that weak?”

Tezuka raised an eyebrow.

“Well, yes, I’m sure Marui _is_ traumatized, but it’s not my job to order Jiro around every waking minute. I’m his captain, not his babysitter.”

Tezuka fought hard not to smile.

“I’m sure Jiro will fall asleep any minute now, and you can ship him off on a train back home.” Atobe paused. “Oh…dear,” he sounded worried. “Just how much of Marui’s candy _did_ he eat?” A wince. “Well, I still don’t see that it’s _my_ problem. However, if you can’t handle it yourself, I’ll be happy to call Yukimura for you, and—” Atobe stopped so quickly, Tezuka figured Sanada must have cut him off. “Yes, well, I’m glad to hear it. Fine, fine, just make sure you send him back in one piece. Good-bye.”

Atobe shut the cell phone again with a sigh.

Tezuka couldn’t help but smirk at him. “It seems you’re in high demand this evening.”

“Hmm,” Atobe reached over to trace the curve of Tezuka’s cheek with his fingertips. “Of course, I am immensely popular. Commoners clamor for a brief moment of my time, left and right.”

“Do they?” Tezuka kissed Atobe’s fingers.

“Very few are truly worthy of my full, undivided attention,” Atobe purred and rolled so that he was on top of Tezuka this time. Their bare chests pressed together, and their clothed erections rubbed through the thick fabric of their jeans.

“I suppose I had better consider myself very fortunate, then,” Tezuka teased.

“You’d better,” Atobe smirked back down at him and kissed him fully and deeply on the lips.

In the background, a snatch of classical music began to play.

Tezuka thrusted his tongue deep into Atobe’s mouth. Atobe moaned from the back of his throat in response and _sucked_. They pulled back apart. “Atobe,” Tezuka nipped at Atobe’s lip.

The music in the background grew louder and more insistent.

“Oh, god, Tezuka,” Atobe practically _whimpered_ as he pulled back. “I’m sorry. I have to—”

“Just let it ring,” Tezuka insisted, catching Atobe’s head between his palms and pulling him down for another forceful kiss.

“I… I…” Atobe breathed raggedly, pushing away. His pupils were completely dilated with lust. “I can’t,” he apologized. “That’s my father’s ring tone.”

Few things acted as better wet blankets than the mention of parents. Tezuka released Atobe, and Atobe scrambled back over him for the phone. Even the shimmying of Atobe’s legs across his stomach wasn’t enough to stir Tezuka back up.

“Hello, father,” Atobe affected his breeziest voice when he answered. “Yes. Ah…yes? Of course. Yes, I’ll let them know. Of course. As you wish. Uh-huh. All right. Good-bye, father.” Atobe hung up.

Tezuka just sighed. “What was that about?”

“Father will be back in the country for a few days next week. He wanted to inform me of certain arrangements.” Atobe crawled back over to Tezuka and settled himself against Tezuka’s chest.

Tezuka grunted. He knew what that meant: several days when Atobe would be too busy to see him.

“There’s no reason to be jealous,” Atobe teased lightly, nibbling at Tezuka’s ear.

Tezuka turned his back on him. “That killed the mood, don’t you think?” he said dryly.

“I don’t care,” Atobe persisted. “I’ve got you all to myself this evening, and I am determined to have you in every conceivable position.” He curled around Tezuka from behind, spooning him, and trailed slow, sultry kisses down the line of his spine. His free hand slipped around front to tease Tezuka’s right nipple.

Tezuka, despite himself, found that he was growing aroused again. “Atobe…” he finally sighed and gave in, turning to face Atobe once more.

Their lips met frantically, and Tezuka’s hand fumbled for the zipper of Atobe’s jeans, suddenly desperate for everything that Atobe had promised him. Atobe’s hands were agile on his own pants, and they tormented Tezuka with tantalizing brushes as they stripped Tezuka bare.

Tezuka finally got Atobe’s jeans shoved down past his hips, and he palmed Atobe’s erection through the lavender silk of his boxer-briefs.

Atobe shuddered in response and rocked slowly into Tezuka’s palm. “God, I want you…”

“Yes,” Tezuka agreed. He helped Atobe kick his jeans the rest of the way off.

“Here, let me…” Atobe’s hand quit playing around, and he opened Tezuka’s pants expertly, only to discover… “Why, you little minx,” Atobe smirked.

Tezuka eagerly shrugged out of his pants.

“Tezuka,” Atobe breathed against his cheek. “No underwear?”

Tezuka blushed. It was embarrassing sometimes just how much he _did_ want Atobe. “I…” he sighed and rubbed the heel of his palm against Atobe’s need roughly.

Atobe gasped and—

Tezuka groaned at the sound of the phone ringing.

“Oh, god,” Atobe groaned, too. “I’ll just be a minute,” he promised. “Wait for me…”

Tezuka had the irrational thought that, at this rate, he’d be waiting _forever_. He lay sprawled back on the bed, completely naked and exposed, and wondered what Atobe would do if Tezuka flushed his phone down the toilet.

“You’re who from where?” Atobe sounded perplexed in the background. “Mizuki from St. Rudolph? Do I know a Mizuki from St. Rudolph?” He gave Tezuka a questioning look.

Tezuka just shrugged. He wasn’t feeling particularly helpful at the moment.

“Yes, er… What do you want, then?” Atobe continued in his ‘my time is valuable and you’re wasting every second’ tone. “A practice match between our teams? Er… Which team were you, again?” A pause. “In any case, Hyotei’s training schedule is booked through the end of the season.” Atobe scowled at whatever Mizuki said. “Oh, I’m _sure_ we’ll regret it,” he rolled his eyes. “Yes, well, whatever. And how on earth did you get this number?” A pause. “It says _what_ on the men’s room wall?” Atobe screeched.

Apparently, Mizuki hung up after that. Atobe glared down at his phone.

Tezuka didn’t even bother to look up.

“Look, Tezuka,” Atobe said apologetically. “I’m turning it off.”

Tezuka didn’t respond.

“It’ll just be you and me for the entire rest of the evening,” Atobe swore. “No more calls.”

Tezuka studied the woodwork around the ceiling. It was elaborately and beautifully carved, just like everything else in the Atobe estate.

Atobe tried to kiss him, but Tezuka turned his head away. Really, the ceiling was just _that_ fascinating. “I’m sorry,” Atobe said softly, sounding genuinely apologetic. “Let me make it up to you…”

Tezuka refused to blink, even if Atobe _was_ looking down at him with the most delicious, sultry look in his eyes. Against Tezuka’s will, he hardened further at the sight. His body clearly wasn’t as annoyed as the rest of him was.

“I’m all yours,” Atobe insisted, crawling down Tezuka’s body. “Promise.” The last was breathed against the tip of Tezuka’s erection.

Tezuka’s eyelashes fluttered closed in response. Atobe’s mouth was always exquisite.

“Is this all right?” Atobe continued.

Tezuka took a deep breath and then nodded slowly. He just never could say no to Atobe for long.

Atobe smirked up at him in that infuriating way that always made Tezuka want to wipe the expression clear off his face. Fortunately, Atobe followed the smirk by taking Tezuka’s cock deep into his mouth. Tezuka moaned and clutched at the sheets. Tezuka’s experience was limited solely to Atobe, but he was convinced that Atobe had to be especially talented to deep throat on the first thrust.

Atobe’s mouth continued to consume him, licking and sucking, and Tezuka felt something very like forgiveness as his orgasm coiled closer and tighter and…

Tezuka shot up in bed and _glared_ when he heard Atobe’s cell phone go off.

Atobe jerked back off him, looking thoroughly panicked at Tezuka’s murderous expression.

“You said you turned it _off_ ,” Tezuka scowled at him.

“I did!” Atobe insisted. “That’s my back-up!”

“ _Back-up_?” Tezuka practically spat the word out.

“I’ll turn it off, too,” Atobe promised. “It’ll just take a second.” He scrambled off the bed.

Tezuka scrambled for his pants; clearly, this was just an exercise in futility.

“No, Ohtori!” Atobe snapped angrily into the phone. “I don’t know how to take care of an orphaned baby bird, and I _don’t care_! The next person to call me does a _hundred_ laps! Spread the word!” He snapped the phone shut and turned it off.

Tezuka had gotten his pants half back on in the meantime. The fact that he was still half hard was impeding his progress.

“Look,” Atobe pleaded with him. “It’s off. And this one, and this one, and…”

Tezuka tried not to gape at the sheer number of cell phones Atobe produced from his bag to shut off.

“And that’s _all_ of them. I promise. Don’t go.” Atobe caught Tezuka on the edge of the bed and knelt between his legs. His palms pressed down on Tezuka’s thighs, trying to keep him from getting up.

“I’ve had enough,” Tezuka insisted with a scowl.

“I have, too,” Atobe promised. “I _need_ you! All these disruptions have been absolutely unbearable, and I can’t do without you for another minute. Please?” He pressed an innocent, closed-mouth kiss to the corner of Tezuka’s lips.

Tezuka felt his resolve waver just a bit. “No more interruptions?” he demanded.

“I promise.” Atobe’s hand cupped Tezuka’s flagging erection and brought it back to full hardness in mere seconds.

“ _All_ the phones are off?” Tezuka’s eyes narrowed.

“You can even check if you want,” Atobe swore. “It’s just you and me now, for the entire,” he punctuated his words with a flick of his tongue against Tezuka’s ear, “night.”

Tezuka shuddered in response and finally let himself fall back onto the bed. Atobe pulled his pants back off eagerly, before chucking aside his own underwear. He covered Tezuka’s body with his own once more, only now the two of them were completely naked. Tezuka hissed as their cocks rubbed against each other, both aching for release.

“All ri—” Tezuka began.

And, with perfect timing, the phone went off.

Atobe’s eyes widened with horror. “It’s not me! It can’t be me!”

A few more strains of melody sounded throughout the suddenly-silent bedroom.

“Actually,” Tezuka pushed his glasses up his nose, “that’s mine.”

Atobe breathed a sigh of relief and didn’t even bother to protest when Tezuka pushed him off to the side. He flounced back over to the center of the mattress and arranged his naked limbs artfully while Tezuka answered.

“Hello?” Tezuka recognized Fuji’s number.

“Ah, Tezuka? You’d better head over to the school right now,” Fuji said lightly.

Tezuka glanced over at where Atobe was stroking himself slowly, smirking in Tezuka’s direction all the while. “I’m busy at the moment,” Tezuka insisted.

“I see… Well, the problem is, Kaidoh and Momo were fighting, and—”

“I’m _very_ busy.” Tezuka was usually able to refrain from snapping at his teammates like that, but Atobe had teased him a bit _too_ far that evening.

“Right,” Fuji agreed. “Long story short: the clubhouse is on fire.”

“The clubhouse is _what_?” Tezuka bellowed in disbelief.

Atobe’s eyes widened, and he scooched across the bed so he could listen in at Tezuka’s ear.

“On fire,” Fuji repeated. “You really need to get over here.”

Tezuka froze, torn between two impossible choices for a moment. “Can’t you call Oishi?” he finally asked hopefully.

“Ah, I would,” Fuji agreed, “but the other part of the problem is that Oishi’s sort of _in_ the clubhouse at the moment.”

Tezuka gaped.

“We tried to stop him, but he’s insisting that he has to save all the rackets, and the equipment, and the stuff people store in their lockers…” Fuji continued. “Eiji is really freaking out.”

Tezuka gaped more.

Atobe snatched the phone from him. “This is Fuji, yes?” he said imperiously. In the background, Tezuka continued to gape. “Yes, and Oishi has just come out again? Well, you get Momoshiro and Kaidoh and tell them to _sit_ on him so that he can’t go back in. And I trust you’ve called the fire department? Good. Just keep sitting on Oishi until they arrive. Tezuka will deal with everything else in the morning.” He hung up and turned the phone off.

Tezuka gaped at him some more.

“You are _mine_ this evening,” Atobe informed him vehemently, wrapping one arm firmly about Tezuka’s waist and cupping his cheek with the other hand.

“Atobe?” Tezuka finally blinked and snapped out of his stunned stupor.

“Yes?” Atobe quirked an eyebrow.

“I love you so, so much right now,” Tezuka informed him.

“Show me how much,” Atobe smirked.

Tezuka smirked back.

Nothing dared to disrupt them for the rest of the evening.


End file.
